Assassin’s Fate

‘I recall how well Patience was served by Lacey. Young woman, I am getting older. I could use a youngster in my service. At Buckkeep, and in the Mountains. Would you wish to accompany me to the Mountain Kingdom?’

Spark’s eyes flickered a glance at Lant. He lowered his eyes and said nothing. ‘I have heard of Lady Patience’s Lacey. Yes, my lady. I believe I could serve you in a similar capacity.’

There was a sadness there. I should have remembered something about it. But the itching, burning pains inside me and the unfinished wolf tugged and worried at my thoughts. It was so hard to focus. But there was something important left to do.

I had only one bequest left. ‘Bee. In all things, and in a better way than I ever was, the Fool will act as father to you. Is that acceptable?’

‘But Riddle—’ Nettle began, but Bee interrupted. ‘Riddle has a daughter. As do you, my sister. I would that you were my sister and Riddle my elder brother rather than you become my parents.’ She smiled and it was almost real. ‘And recall that I have my brother Hap Gladheart also to look over me.’ She brought her gaze back to me and spoke earnestly. ‘And I have had a father. You were my father, and I will go on without one now. You need not worry for me, Da. In your own way, you have well provided for me.’

‘In my own way,’ I conceded. Pain. Bitter disappointment in myself. Something more to put into the wolf.

Are we finished? I asked the wolf.

I believe so. But they may not be finished with us.

And they were not. I went back to the wolf, muttering my tale while Bee sat near me and noted it all down. Sometimes, I saw, it was not words but a painting or an ink sketch. She did not ask questions but simply accepted the things I told her about myself and my days. I noticed her head drooping lower over her book. The next time I looked at her, she was on her side, curled around her book. Her pen had fallen from her hand and she had not stoppered her ink. But I was putting into the wolf a picnic with Molly and I could not pause.

‘Fitz,’ said the Fool.

I looked down at him. He had the ink-bottle in his hand and had pushed the stopper in. I had not seen or heard him come near. I saw him set the ink to one side. He drew the book out from under Bee’s hand, and settled a blanket over her. He sat down cross-legged, his back straight, and opened the book on his lap. He began to page through it.

‘Does she know you do that?’ I asked.

‘She allows it, but not graciously. It is something I feel I must do, Fitz, for she reveals very little of herself to anyone. She told me earlier today that you had put a great many memories of me into the wolf, and that she was writing them down as well. I found that a bit alarming.’

I took my hands from the wolf and sat down beside him. It was difficult to do. I folded my hands in my lap, Silver over Silver. So bony. Absently I stroked my hand, whetting one against the other, repairing the damage to the flesh and tendons beneath the Silver. I could do that. At a cost. He watched me do it. ‘Cannot you do that with your whole body?’

‘It costs me to do this. Flesh and strength from elsewhere. And already they attack me again. But I need my hands, and so I do it.’

He turned a page, smiled and looked up at me. ‘She has written down the names of the dogs that were under the table with you the first time you saw me. You remembered all their names?’

‘They were my friends. Do you recall your friends’ names?’

‘I do,’ he said quietly. He turned a few more pages, reading swiftly, sometimes smiling, sometimes pensive. He scowled at one page, and then closed the book gently. ‘Fitz, I do not think I am the best person to be Bee’s father.’

‘Neither was I. But that is how things turned out.’

He almost smiled. ‘True. She is mine. And isn’t. For she doesn’t want to be. You heard what she said. She would rather go on with no father than have me.’

‘She isn’t old enough to know what is best for her.’

‘Are you sure of that?’

I paused to think. ‘No. But who else should I ask?’

It was his turn to pause. ‘Perhaps no one. Or Lant?’

‘Lant’s life is complicated and likely to become more so.’

‘Hap?’

‘Hap will be there for her, but as her elder brother.’

‘Chivalry or one of Molly’s other boys?’

‘If they were here, I might. But they are not, and they have no concept of what she has gone through. You do. Are you asking me to release you from being her father? Because I cannot, you know. Some duties cannot be shed.’

‘I know,’ he said quietly.

I felt a vague tug of alarm. ‘There is something else you’d rather be doing than staying with Bee? Something you feel called to do?’ Would he leave her as he had left me?